


The Letter

by 23LucyGrace



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Golden Age (Narnia), Just King, Letters, One Shot, POV Edmund Pevensie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/23LucyGrace/pseuds/23LucyGrace
Summary: It all happened so fast. One moment I was at the festival having a good time, then the next moment...nothing. I should have paid more attention to that stupid letter...
Kudos: 5





	The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I am doing a writing challenge where I post a one shot every month based on a topic. Don't worry I will still be updating "The Dawn's End" story every week. The second month's topic was "Letter." Enjoy!

It all happened so fast. One moment I was at the festival having a good time, then the next moment...nothing. I should have paid more attention to that _stupid_ letter...

* * *

It is the morning of the annual festival celebrated every year on the day the White Witch was defeated. I have never been the biggest fan of this time of year. Not because of the normal excuses, but because at this time of year the White Witch comes to visit my dreams and turn them into nightmares.

"Edmund!" Lucy calls, shaking me out of my thoughts.

"Yes, Lu?" I reply as I finish putting on my boots.

"The festival starts in two hours! Have you written your speech yet?"

"Yes of course I did Lu, It is right here." I pick up the first envelope I can find on my desk.

"Good, because you know Susan and Peter would have killed you if you've forgotten."

"Well then it's a good thing I wrote it." I put my hand of the door handle and start slowly closing the door, but Lucy shoves it back open.

"Are you sure you finished it?" She raises an eyebrow, staring into my eyes.

I flinch, quickly looking away. "Yes and you will hear it during the festival."

"Okay, I'll see you there Ed." Lucy is skipping away, slowly, each step uncertain than the pervious ones, dubious glances thrown my way, glinting with playfulness.

A wave of guilt rode over me, crashing at the thought that I didn't write a speech. I must have forgotten with all of my duties and the haunting nightmares my mind conjures up nearly every night.

"No worries," I tell myself. "I will just write it now."

I look down at the envelope I had in my hand. It is unopened. There is no address and all that is written on it is " _To Edmund_." I don't think much of it as I open it up, it probably was just hand delivered to me. Inside is a written letter, the handwriting wasn't familiar to me. Some of the words I have to squint in order to clearly understand what is written.

* * *

_"Dear Usurper Edmund,_

_If you care at all about your precious human life you will stop being king. Today during your speech you will denounce your position as king, or you will be killed on sight. Our queen will have her revenge so you can abide by it, or die by it."_

* * *

There is no formal address or wax seal on the cream-coloured paper. I disregard it as another joke. The young fauns have been quite active in these sorts of things lately, and after all, the handwriting does seem childish with its uncoordinated scribbles and ink stains.

I huff at it and sit at my desk, beginning the speech with a small sigh. My pen stops after filling two pages relating to the kingdom's progress in these years after the witch's defeat at Beruna, including also my thoughts during the battle and after.

As I rise from my chair, I notice the malicious letter, cruched into a ball and sitting at my bed. I throw it into the fireplace before heading out of my room. 

* * *

The festival is going really well. The presentations are successful, the people are happy, and the food is delicious. A few hours in it was my turn to make my speech. I go through my entire speech line by line and everyone seems to be pleased by it, including my siblings who are smiling at me from the side of the podium. I hear something in the bushes, but just as everything else. I ignore it. I come down to the last line of my speech, the one my very own brother Peter said at the Battle of Beruna.

"For Narnia and for As-"

I never finish that speech. I hear the sound of an arrow being released from the string. I am on the ground now. I can faintly hear all the screams of the Narnians. I can feel the presence of my siblings. Peter bellowing my name in utter panic and wailing like a man who'd just been ripped of his soul, Susan's strangled sobs that reach my ears in a frenzy, and Lucy popping off the lid of her cordial. But I remember that taste of the healing liquid and I do not taste it now.

* * *

There is nothing around me. I can't see, or hear, or taste. And it makes sense, because I am dead now. And dead people can only experience nothing.

* * *

But that is the funny part, because I can feel something. I feel the sand underneath my fingertips, and blink to see the tanning brown sand. I stand to then experience the water glistening from the rays of the northern sun. The trees are dancing to the pleasing tunes of the robins and songbirds. The wind rushes past me leading me up ahead. I walk through the arching trees, the forest smell was fresh but light. The peace of the morning was soul southing.

I turn to see Aslan. I know what this means, he knows that too. I could ask him anything I wanted, any question at all, and he would be honest with me. But all I can think of is:

"Would things have been different if I had paid attention to the letter?"

"We can never know what would have happened, Edmund."

I take a deep breath, breathing in all of my new surroundings. I look into the Lion's eyes, bright and bold, filled with all the world's knowledge.

"Will my siblings be alright without me?"

"You will not be separated forever. One day they will join you here."

"In your country?" I ask, knowing the answer anyway.

"In my country."


End file.
